Referendum by Campbell Hart Read Free Book Online

Haghill way.”
    “A man should never apologise for his name or his neighbourhood, we welcome all through these doors.”
    Horace was feeling a bit out of his depth. He hadn’t been in work for a long time, his benefits had been cut and Lorna was out of work. He’d heard this guy was reasonable as long as you paid him back on time. There was some work coming up at the Games Village soon and if it came off he’d be quids-in; fingers crossed this would tide the family over.
    “Are you lending just now?”
    “My friend, Semple’s temple is never closed. How much do you need?” Ron sensed he might be onto a winner, someone that thought they’d be in for the short term; maybe he thought there was a windfall just around the corner.
    “I don’t need much, just a bridging loan really to see me through to payday with my new job – I’m labouring down at Dalmarnock.”
    “I see. The Commonwealth Games houses – I hear it’s looking good down there. I could offer you £100 no problem at all.”
    “I’m just a bit nervous about the interest rates—“
    “No need Mr McMahon. If you were to take all year you’d be looking at a lot but a man such as yourself about to take a new job needn’t worry about those kinds of details. Pay me back in the space of a month and we’re only talking about the small matter of £40 give or take a few pence.”
    “Sounds OK.” Horace was more relaxed now. He’d heard the rates were astronomical but forty quid was nothing, he just needed to land the job. He’d find out about that later today. It’s in the bag.
    Reaching over the table he extended his hand, “Mr Semple, you have yourself a deal.” When the two men shook on it, Horace couldn’t be sure if he had detected a smile.
    Later that day, Horace met with his contact, an old pal he’d worked with on building projects going back more than ten years. George Callaghan had promised him work, said there were all sorts of gigs going at the Games Village, and months of work up for grabs. But the foreman wasn’t a friend.  In fact he’d heard about Horace from the velodrome project, heard that he’d been drunk and fallen down a well marked exit. He didn’t need that kind of guy on site, regardless of his experience.
    So Horace didn’t get the job and he didn’t repay the bill. He spent his £100 on food for the family and some clothes for Leona. He’d bought Leona some lipstick too, told her not to tell her mum, just a wee treat. But he knew he had to repay the debt but didn’t know how. He scrounged the odd tenner here and there but it didn’t make a dent. After a month he owed £140, then £200 the following month. But the interest rate was extortionate and 6000% soon adds up. After 12 months Horace McMahon owed more than £6000 and with no hope of paying it back, his fortunes weren’t going to improve anytime soon. The last time he visited Ron Semple he’d been told the debt had been sold, that he’d been given ample opportunity to pay it back. The debt now belonged to a collector. He was told he would need to get serious about finding the cash. Horace had cried, broken down in the office, pleaded for another chance. But Ron Semple wasn’t interested. Horace was told to expect a visit soon and thanked for his business. Ron had made his money and Horace had made the biggest mistake of his life.
     

13
     
     
    Monday July 21 st , 2014
     
    Arbogast had packed the night before and loaded his car first thing. It was his last day off for two weeks and he had unfinished business. Having grown up an only child with his mother he’d found out last year that his father was alive and well; more than that, their paths had crossed without him knowing. His father had been visiting his mother at her care home for several years but had never made himself known. His mother had alzheimer’s and was in no position to keep him up to date with the family news; she would probably have preferred it that way. But armed with a car